Yesterday I was whipping up a batch of homemade chocolate-chip cookies (that I did not screw up, thankyouverymuch), when my dad called me.  He usually asks me what I’m doing, so I prepped my response, even though the question never came.  But my would-be answer shocked me to my core.

What was I doing, exactly?

Baking. For a mom’s group. Where there would likely be crafting.

OMG Who am I!?  What have I turned into?

Obviously there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of the aforementioned things.  But I honestly did not expect that life would take me to a crafting table so soon.  Or ever.  We already know that’s not my thing.

With this revelation I just about dropped my KitchenAid to log onto Gilt and buy some fabulous pair of shoes, if only to assert that some part of my former urban-dwelling, fashion-loving, non-crafting self still exists.  But breaking such a fabulous appliance would really have been a shame…

Perhaps it is time to accept that my destiny may include a level of domesticity I am currently unprepared for.  Maybe it’s time to embrace the crafts, the cooking, the conversations revolving around teething and tantrums.  But I’ll be damned if I don’t still accessorize well while doing so.